


Our Kiss

by Pie (potteresque_ire)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dementor's Kiss, Drarry Discord Writers Corner Drabble Challenge, M/M, Murder, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potteresque_ire/pseuds/Pie
Summary: Written for Discord Drarry Server's Drabble Challenge, July 2018. Prompt: "I'm not sorry". Word count limit: 369 words (based on http://wordcounter.net).





	Our Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to lettersbyelise for running this round of the challenge! <3

They ask for my last words. I have none.  
Harry asked, too.  
I had none for him, either.

“Kiss me,” I say.  
I said.

What initiates a kiss? Have you wondered?  
Is it the time, the place?  
The body closing in?  
The arms around the neck, the hands on the skin?  
The mouth that opens?  
The breath that catches?  
The heart that stops?

The door closes.  
It slammed shut.  
My time will be his,  
He, approaching in black.  
My night would be his,  
He, in Auror’s red.  
My soul is sustenance to him.  
A novelty, too.  
My flesh drew him close.  
He craved it, the Darkness within  
So exotic.

His arms encircle me,  
Intimate as a scripted act.  
Professional.  
They’re cold, but there’s no pain.  
His fingers dug into my skin.  
Professional boundaries could be hard to draw  
Between  
Rivals-with-benefits turned  
Hero-and-scum turned  
Client-and-escort.  
Husband-and-affair.  
He hurt me, but he was warm.  
So, so warm.

I open my mouth.  
He feels it with his own, blindly,  
Claiming the prize,  
Rattling with ecstasy  
Of a _petit mort_.  
I parted my lips.  
Pink.  
Wet.  
Painted.  
 _You’ll be the death of me_ , he whispered.  
 _What do you have to say for yourself?  
_ _Kiss me_ , I said, closed my eyes and  
He did,  
Tasted his poison.

His breath catches.  
Souls are hard to swallow.  
His breath caught.  
Betrayal must have been hard to swallow

Even from me.

The heart is a funny thing.  
Was.  
It doesn’t, didn’t stop beating,  
Without a soul to feel it,  
A mind to guide it.  
It beats on, as I speak now,  
Drained and discarded.  
It beat on, as I carried him home,  
Laid him in the crypt,  
On the stone bed with our names engraved.  
I joined him there, held him there until

They tore us away,  
Apart.  
They call me impenitent,  
Insane.

No matter.

I shall join him again.  
Because can’t you see?  
My heart will stop being a funny thing.  
It’ll stop,  
They’ll make sure of it,  
Like his funny heart stopped  
When they spelled _Incarcerous_ on me,  
Wrenched my body from his.  
And I’ll know,  
And I promise to tell you  
From my resting place,  
Our final home,  
What initiates a kiss.

Our kiss.


End file.
